The Flame of Love
by Kitty Kat 277
Summary: "I feel myself surrendering to the black wave I've been fighting...his nails dig into my fingertips...are these the last thoughts I'll ever know?" Meet Kyra Flame. One of the few female vampires alive. Follow her through her hot-headed adventures. R and R
1. To save a life

**My Cirque Du Freak fic! Enjoy! (you pronounce her name kigh-ruh)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Cirque du Freak. I only own Kyra and Jason (even if he's only in for this chapter**).

**The Flame of Love**

Freezing cold.

I feel it seep into my jeans, and grin evilly. My ex bought them for me, even though I told him I hate pink. I smile, amused at this. I slide around in the rainwater, making sure to get every inch of fabric. When I finish my strange task, I pull a cigarette out of my pocket. I light it, then take a long draft, staring at the sky.

I stay there a while, watching the dark clouds swirling over my head. I find it thrilling to sit in a thunderstorm. I hate the feel of water, and yet I love the rain. It makes no sense, but its true. Suddenly, I decide to leave my spot under the tree. I run for the nearest store, an antique shop. Soon as I close the door, it starts pouring and I smirk.

I had felt it coming, and tried to outrun it. I have this strange ability to sense things like that, just like all the other women in my family. I don't mind, except people often call me a witch or other harsh names. I brush these thoughts away, then observe my surroundings.

A relatively small store, but somehow it holds a lot. Two women are looking at snow globes in the back, and a teenage boy, younger than me, is asleep at the one checkout, which is simply a table. I walk up and prod him in the shoulder. No movement. I poke him again, but he only grunts. I sigh and walk off to check out a cool-looking box of records. I flip through them, and find one semi-decent Beatles album. I hate the Beatles, but I figure I could sell it on E-Bay.

I walk up to the boy and prod him in the shoulder a few times. He doesn't budge.

"Hey. Hey, kid. Wake up, I wanna buy this." I grunt. He still doesn't move. I sigh and brush some curly orange hair out of my face. I think about hitting him with the record, but decide that probably wouldn't work. I hiss in aggravation, raising the record like a weapon, and he jumps awake, yelling, "I wasn't sleeping! I swear! I was-"

"Whatever. Just tell me how much this is." I shove the record in his face and he jumps, covering his face with his arms. I blink, and he blushes.

"Sorry, I'm kinda jumpy sometimes. That record's ten bucks." he mumbles. I sigh, knowing that I only have nine. I give him that, and he takes it drowsily, saying a dollar doesn't really matter.

"In the horrible economy we have, it does," I say, and he smiles, "Name?"

"Jason Davis." he announces, striking a pose. It's an attempt to make me smile, but I don't. He blushes again, then asks what my name is.

"Kyra Flame." I say. He waits for something, and I strike a pose as well. He laughs, and I smile. He wishes me a good day, and I tell him not to get robbed. He laughs again, and I put my hand on the doorknob.

I freeze at the sounds behind it.

Guns. I hear them clicking. Three men, whispering gruffly at each other. One of them says that they need to grab all the money and anything that looks valuable. One says they need to kill any witnesses. They all agree with him.

I step back, fear overwhelming me, then stop. My eyes narrow. I crack my fists, looking over my shoulder at the three behind me. The women arguing over which snow globe is prettier. Jason snoring again. I picture them dead, and something inside me snaps. I can't let that happen. I brace myself for death.

I fling open the door, and the threesome momentarily freezes. They stare, then two of them point their guns at me. I hold my hands above my head in defense. Tears of terror are threatening to spill, but I banish them away. The third man shoves his companion's weapons down, smiling psychotically at me. I refuse to look him in the eye.

He strolls up, then gets his goons to hold me against the wall. I don't fight, but I do signal at Jason. He looks horrified, and the two ladies are holding each other (and their snow globes). I blink nine times, a signal that means 911, and he goes for the phone. It's a desperate movement, and he makes so much noise that the creeps notice him.

The leader gives a deadly smile at Jason, who yelps, his eyes wide in utter terror. The goons release me, wanting a peace of my new friend. The leader snaps his fingers, and the others cock their guns. Jason's to petrified to move. Time slows down. I scream, and it's the only thing I hear.

I push myself in front of them, and then, contact. Two bullets in both arms. I scream, and then the lunatics laugh and shoot me again. I can hardly hear anything over the sound of gunfire and my own screeches. I do, however, hear the two ladies calling 911 on their cells. I've taken three more bullets, and now they're losing interest in me. They're going after the women now.

I scream, "DUCK YOU IDIOTS!" and they do just that. They dive under a table and pull a painting in front of the opening. The bullets pierce the painting, but they don't seem to be hitting the women. A black haze is going over my eyes, and I'm getting tired. I put my hand over my chest, and pull it back off. I gasp as I see blood. One of the men hears me, then whirls and shoots again. This time, it hits above my heart.

A scream of agony. I feel it rip out of me, so loud it scares me. The blackness is a wall of unforgiving water, a wave of blood threatening to sweep me under. I hear sirens, screams, and gunfire. Are these the final sounds I'll hear? I know they will be…I feel myself surrendering, being swept away by that ghostly wall of death. Suddenly, right before my sight is gone, I see something strange.

The gunman fall back, screaming. I'm confused. The police aren't here yet. Why are they panicking-and then, I see him. He's tall, with red skin. He's wearing purple animal skins, and his hair is green. He's battling like a demon, attacking brutally, violently, killing my killers. They fall back to the ground, and he drops to his knees, grabbing my shoulders. He shakes me, asking if I'm okay.

I spit blood, and I feel horrible when it hits his face. He only wipes it away. I feel it suddenly, a defeated, yet relaxed feeling. He grabs my hands, then I watch his face as I'm swept under by the current that I have been fighting so hard. His nails dig into mine and I can barely feel something that would normally hurt. I smile one last time, then close my eyes and surrender to the darkness.

Freezing cold.

**Dun-dun-DUN! Big cliff-hanger huh? Hope you all liked it! Until next time, this is Kitty Kat, signing off!**


	2. In a hole

**(Disclaimer-I don't own Cirque du Freak, Vancha, or any other of the characters you recognize. I only own Kyra and her family.)**

**The Flame of Love-Chapter Two**

I yawn and attempt to stretch. My hands hit a wall, and I blink in surprise. I don't remember moving my bed…I can't see anything. Its pitch black in here…wherever I am. I feel around, and realize, there are four walls and a ceiling. It's to tiny to move, and I can touch the wall at my feet by stretching.

Why the hell am I in a box?

I fall back against the floor of the box and sigh, trying to regulate my breathing. It's best not to panic-there's probably a limited amount of air in here. I stay calm for about two minutes, and then the madness sinks in.

I'm trapped, its dark, I don't know where I am, and to top it off, there's a burning thirst growing in my throat. I try to push the lid off, but it doesn't budge. I whine in terror, which surprises me. I usually don't panic when it comes to stuff like this. I try again (unsuccessfully) to stay calm, then check my pockets for something that gives off light. I find my phone in the left pocket of my army jacket, and turn it on. I'm surprised to see voice mail.

I open the first, the light illuminating the small box. I blink in shock-its from my ex.

"_Hey, Sparky. Its me, Joey. I know you hated me, and I just wanted to say I'm sorry. I should have been nicer to you…I didn't know this would happen. I miss you, babe. I hope we'll see each other when I'm older. I loved you so much…"_

I stare at the screen, wondering why he sounds so sad, and why he used past tense. And what did he mean, 'when I'm older'? I shake my head, feeling like I'm missing something, then open the second. I almost drop the phone; its from my mom.

"_Hey…I know you hated me, and all, but I only took that job for us. I just wanted to say that I miss you. I never told you, but I love you. I know you're dad did too. I'm so relieved to know that you two will finally be together. You always talked about him. I miss you, even if you don't miss me. Good-bye, my brave soldier."_

I don't know how to respond. My mom…why does she miss me? I'm just living away from her. And what does she mean 'I'm glad you're with him'…my dad is dead. He was a soldier in Iraq, shot down in one of his missions. I still wear his military jacket everyday, in memory. My mom became a hooker after that. We didn't have any money, and she had a great body, so that's how it came about.

I stare at the phone, and suddenly, Poker Face by Lady Gaga starts playing.

I jump, hitting my head on the ceiling of the box. I drop the phone, curse, pick it back up and answer, not bothering to wonder why I have service in a box.

"Turn the damn phone off."

I blink, then ask, "Who is this?"

"The guy with the green hair. Now get off it, ASAP. I'm coming to get you out of the coffin soon. Bye."

The message cuts off, and the phone clicks off. I don't care-I'm staring at the ceiling, my heart pounding unevenly.

_Coffin_?

And then it hits me.

The gunfight. Protecting Jason and the women. The man. Dying…if I died, why am I still here? I rub my forehead, considering what the hell is going on. I feel something weird when I rub my head, though. My fingers have little cuts on the tips, and they're caked with dry blood. I remember the man who just called digging his nails into them, and try to put two and two together. I can't. I end up going to sleep again. Dreams seem to make more sense then reality at the moment.

When I wake up, I hear repetitive thunks and grunts over my head. They're quiet a distance away, and depending on the pitch of the noises, it's a man. I remember the call, and know it's the green-haired dude come to dig me up…that sounds strange to say, really. I decide to call up and see if he can hear me.

"HEY! WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?", I roar. It makes my throat burn even worse.

"Shut up! You don't have to yell!", he calls back. Definitely the man who called.

"Sorry! Just-"

"Stop talking, I'll be down there soon!"

And he was. It only took him about four minutes to reach me-pretty fast digger. Almost inhumanly fast….I push the thought away, and wait for him to open the coffin. He pries the lid off-not bothering with the nails-and smiles briefly at me. I glare up at him, and he grabs me by the arm and drags me out. I breathe in the wind, which is way better than the stale, cold air in the coffin. I turn and face him, but find he's not there. I blink, bewildered, and suddenly he's behind me. I yelp and fall back into the coffin.

He smirks, and helps me up again. I'm reluctant to come up. We stare awkwardly at each other, and then he holds out his hand with a crooked, almost drunken smile.

"Vancha March."

"Kyra Flame."

We shake hands, and he messes around under his animal skins. He pulls out a shuriken belt, he's wearing one as well, and tells me to put it on. I stare at him like he's psycho, which I'm certain he is. Who else would purposely dress like that?

"You're gonna need it if you want to survive.", he explains, and I swipe it suspiciously out of his hands. I put it on-it doesn't fit me very well around the waist, so I end up putting it over one shoulder. He jumps out of the hole and helps me up. I slip a few times-the hole is really deep-and when I finally get to the top, I'm out of breath. The thirst is burning now, and my throat aches. I rub it and groan. Vancha sees this, and announces, "Well, I see its time to feed."

"Er, I just need something to drink, really. I mean, I've been in a freakin' coffin for who knows how long."

He snorts. "Well, you're in for a surprise."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You'll see.", he grins, then grabs me and throws me onto his shoulders. I yowl like a cat, and he yells, "Hold your breath!", before taking off so fast that I can hardly see in front of me. The scenery is blurred, and I almost scream, when he stops to catch his breath. He rubs his head, then glances at me and says, "You okay?"

"Yeah. I just crawled out of my coffin and am riding a mutant's back through the city! I'm fan-freakin-tastic!"

"Good!", he laughs, then bursts off again, beyond break-neck speed. He pauses again soon, and some poor kid yelps and crashes his bike into a tree. We get started again, laughing insanely. I don't have enough of a mind to worry about why I'm alive. I'm busy laughing and being thirsty. We finally stop at a night school, I didn't realize how late it was, and Vancha drops me off his back. I gasp when I hit the ground, some sense finally getting knocked into me.

"Where are we? Why did you bring me here? Why am I alive? I'm a zombie, aren't I?", I snarl, and Vancha glares back at me, then says the three words that will forever change my life.

"You're a vampire."

**M'kay, chapter two, end! That was lots of fun to write, and the coffin thing was inspired by the movie Buried. Hope you liked it! The next chapter will be about feeding, then some big news! Bye for now!**


	3. Feeding Time

**(Sorry I haven't updated recently! Things have been tied up between school and my IZ fanfic!)**

**The Flame of Love**

"You're kidding.", I say flatly. Vancha's smile falters, then vanishes.

"No, I'm not. You're a vamp now.", he says, then, without warning, darts down the hill towards the school. With an exasperated, slightly confused sigh, I follow him.

"Hey! Where the hell are you going, green-head?", I yell. He holds a hand up, and I race after him. _God_, I think, _how fast _is_ he?_

"You need to feed.", he says, stopping suddenly. I bump into him, then blink. I _am _kinda hungry…

"Well, I think there's a Burger King down the road from here."

"You need to feed on _blood_, dumbass!", he snaps, then laughs at my dumbfounded face. I feel kind of sick to my stomach. He doesn't appear to be joking.

What if he's a serial killer? What if he really thinks he's a vampire, and kills people to drink their blood? I've seen that kind of thing on crime shows before, and I really, _really_ don't want to be around some guy like that.

"Look, I'll just be on my way and-"

"Hey, hot stuff,", I recoil at the nickname, "If you don't feed now, you're gonna die. So come on.", he growls, then marches off.

I stand and shift from foot to foot, weighing my options. I decide that I could (1) try to talk him down, (2) call the police, or (3) run as fast as my freaking feet could carry me.

I like option three.

But I decide to cooperate with him. No telling what a psychopath is capable of, especially if I egg him on.

"Wait up!", I call, and he holds his hand up in irritation.

"Shhh! Do you want to wake everyone up?", he whispers.

Total Class A psycho.

"You do know that's a night school, right?", I murmur, orange hair standing on end. He tips his face up from under the bush he's hiding behind.

"I know that! Hang on," he cocks his head, squints, then darts out the bushes, then from tree to tree. I stare after him, shifting my weight again. What the eff is he doing?

He gestures for me to follow, and I seriously consider option three again.

But a little voice in my head tells me to go after him. I hiss inwardly, then dart like a freaking ninja through the trees. I catch up with him, and right before I speak, he's off again.

I watch as he hides behind a sign, and then leaps suddenly.

He grabs a student by his shirt, then breathes in his face. The boy falls, and Vancha gestures for me to come after him.

"Holy shit! He just, he just, and now he wants me to-", I gasp, tugging my hair. I panic for a few more moments, then turn around. I stare determinedly at the fallen student, deciding to be the hero. You'd think I wouldn't, after what happened last time.

I run down the hill, forgetting to be a ninja, focusing only on my shaking knees. I gather my wits, then lope down the remainder of the hill.

"Took you long enough!", he says brightly. My stomach clenches as he holds the kid's wrist out at me.

And then it happens.

I lose myself. I surrender to the dry thirst that's been torturing me, swooping heavily down onto the boy's thick chest. I drink greedily from his wrist, and I feel sick.

Like a monster.

A few minutes in, Vancha pushes me away. I fight him hard to go back, not able to control what I'm doing.

"Hey! Stop! You'll kill him if you keep going!", Vancha says, struggling to keep me in a headlock.

"I'm still thirsty!", I snarl, and my voice surprises me-it sounds deep, almost…possessed.

"I don't give a shit! You're a vampire, you don't kill!"

I relax, confused, but Vancha keeps a firm hold on my neck. "What do you mean by-"

We whip our heads around at the sound of the kid recovering. Vancha helps me up, and I feel something warm run down my shirt-the student's blood. My stomach turns again, but there's some kind of satisfaction in it. A kind of satisfaction that makes me almost vomit.

"Come on!", Vancha hisses, and drags me away from-what? 'The scene of the crime'? I don't know. I just run.

Once we're safely away, we watch the boy get shakily to his feet, sway a few times, then rub his head and walk back to the school, holding onto the wall. _Good, maybe he'll go the nurse_, I think, _I'm just glad I didn't kill him._

You know you're life's screwed up when you think stuff like that.

Speaking of life…

"Why I am I alive?", I ask, which, again, sounds strange, "And why did I just, y'know-"

"Well," Vancha yawns, "I think it's about time I explained, right? Sit down, and let me tell ya about your kind."

My 'kind'…right, blood sucking demons of the night that are damned to the eternal lives of killing are my 'kind'…

**(Yes, yes they are Kyra. I had fun writing this chapter, for once! Okay, not 'for once', but I mean I had fun with **_**italics**_** and stuff! Please R&R. The next chapter will be up soon! Sorry this one was so short! Gah, now I need a chapter of my Zombieland fic up…)**


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